Darkness
by iirrpp
Summary: Faced with unimaginable change, Sonic cannot cope with his new life. Themes of suicide and depression.
1. Prologue

_Author's notes and warnings: I was recently cleaning up my laptop when I stumbled across this story tucked away amongst my old files. It was written 8 or 9 years ago and at the time, was one of the most complex things I had ever written (not to mention the longest). How times have changed._

_I must admit that it's been a long time since last visited the STH fandom, and taking a trip down memory lane it seems that a lot has changed since I've moved on. If I remember correctly, this story takes place somewhere after the Archie Sonic comic 130, although by that point I had already started to drift from the fandom and wasn't following the story arcs so closely. As such, there may be a few inconsistencies with the continuity._

_I should also point out that I haven't edited this story since it was first written, so please excuse any poor grammar or formatting – I've learnt (and improved) and awful lot since then. I have no intention to fix it as I've moved on to other stories in other fandoms (posted on this site, but not under this alias), but still, I thought I'd give it an airing._

_On to the warning – this story deals with the themes of depression and attempted suicide, thus it may be upsetting for some readers. Please take this into account as you proceed, as the last thing I want is to cause anyone any undue distress. _

* * *

**Darkness**

**Prologue**

War is an instigation of greed. For the perpetrator, it allows for a manifestation of great desire: for power and total control. It enables the release of anger and frustration, and through this release, wreaks horrific destruction. For those whom war is thrust upon, however, it epitomizes the opposite, fear and a loss of total control. Casualties are inevitable; but life is not all that is taken. War is a great consumer; it consumes resources, energy, hope and spirit. War consumes the soul; penetrating deep into the hearts of those enveloped by it. The greatest casualty is this loss; even for those who do not take part in the fighting, it worms itself deep within; entwining around the soul, twisting and mutilating.

For those with no choice, the heroes rising from the ashes, fighting to save the very people and places they live for, the impact of war can be crushing. The complete decimation of the soul is a price they are subconsciously willing to pay in order to gain the freedom they so desperately desire. To those whom look up in awe at these heroes, they are gods, immortal both in body and spirit. They stand as the last strands of hope in what often seems a hopeless situation. And the heroes, yearning for peace more than any other, are compelled to withhold this assumption, deriving from such visions, the strength to continue fighting.

But from time to time, the destruction of one's soul goes unchecked for too long. Feeding on the god-like status lavished upon them, the soul begins to crumble without recognition. It is when the uncontrollable nightmares begin; the incessant sub-conscious reminders of painful memories ravaging every waking moment that one begins to realize that the process has already begun. Unwilling to display this weakness, and too afraid to destroy what little hope others have, the hero slowly begins to self-destruct from the inside. The hero feels ashamed of their fear and weakness. And this shame creates further fear and anger, perpetuating the cycle of destruction.


	2. Desperation

_Author's Notes: As per the notes in the prologue, please note that this story deals with the themes of depression and attempted suicide, thus it may be upsetting for some readers. Please take this into account as you proceed, as the last thing I want is to cause anyone any undue distress. Also note that it hasn't been (and will not be) edited since the early 00's… _

_I should also point out that since writing this I have developed a hate for first person stories...what was I thinking?!  
_

* * *

**Chapter 1**

**Desperation**

_Knuckles_

I sometimes think it's funny; that two people can be so totally different in attitude and behaviour, yet their lives have, by some strange twist of fate, unfurled in such a similar manner that they have more in common than most would realize. I think that may be the case with Sonic and I…as much as I hate to admit it. And whist I don't know him as well as the Freedom Fighters, I think I understand what he is going through. I guess it is my observant nature, but since I have been staying here I have seen things in Sonic that I never thought I would; fear, weakness. I have seen changes in him that, for many of his closest friends, are only just coming to light. And I have seen their reactions to these changes. We all know that he has been turning to the bottle over the last month or so, but I have seen subtle changes in him for quite some time now, and his recent behaviour doesn't come as a surprise to me.

Standing alone in the royal dining room, I observe the many guests as they go about their feasting, laughing and chatting between mouthfuls of food and sips of fine wine. But the merriness that this dinner portrays at its surface seems shallow, and I can't help feeling a sense of hopelessness and concern about the room. Whether this has been brought about by the constant warring this kingdom has, and still is, enduring, or by the Princess' shocking mood since her break-up, I am unsure. But, watching the crowd, I know what is on the minds of many of the guests here tonight, and that is Sonic.

I turn my gaze to Bernie and Jules, Sonic's parents. I watch as Jules leans across and plants a kiss on Bernie's cheek, before whispering something into her ear and moving away to talk with Rotor, leaving her sitting at the table alone, absent-mindedly twisting the corner of the white table cloth around her fingers. Although I have only met them a few times, I have always got on quite well with them both, finding them welcoming, easy-going and full of life. Much like Sonic, actually, but without the massive ego! Sonic without and ego, that's an interesting thought...I can't stand people that are full of themselves like he is, but without an ego, I think I'd find him far more tolerable.

But tonight, surrounded by supposed merriment, Bernie seems a shadow of her former self. Her shoulders are slumped and her eyes, normally bright and full of life, are dull and saddened. Her face too portrays her worry. I observe her listlessly talk to Bunnie, whom had pulled up a chair to join her, and can't help but feel concern for her. Suddenly, she glances up and her eyes meet mine. Averting her gaze, I turn away and walk out onto the balcony.

I'm not in the mood for celebration tonight. It's hard to be when everyone around me is putting on such a poor attempt to be joyous. Believing that I am alone on the balcony, I lean my back against the cold, wrought iron railing and let out a tired sigh.

"Know the feeling…" I hear in a choked voice, almost like a sarcastic laugh.

Turning quickly, I see Sally leaning on the railing, looking out over the gardens below. "Oh…sorry…I didn't realize you were out here…I'll leave if you…" I start.

"No…it's ok…I could do with the company" she replies softly. "It's nice to be in the company of someone who knows what it's like to be a leader…who knows what it's like to be lonely…"

I watch her intently as she speaks, and see that her gaze is fixed not on me, but on a dark figure, sitting at the edge of the garden.

"Is that…?" I ask tentatively.

"Yeah…" she replies coldly.

We stand in awkward silence, watching the periodical rise and fall of a bottle, glinting as it catches the crisp, white light of the twin moons, and accompanying this, the weak orange glow of burning embers at the end of a cigarette.

"How can he be so selfish?!" Sally suddenly bursts, her voice bitter and twisted, wavering in anguish.

"What?" I remark, taken aback by her outburst. "What do you mean selfish?"

Sally rounds on me abruptly, her eyes glowing with malevolence. "Don't tell me you approve of his behaviour, do you?" she scoffs.

"Well, I think you're being a bit harsh…I mean…" I retaliate cautiously, only to be interrupted by a wash of anger.

"This is unbelievable… you, of all people, sticking up for that…that spiteful, narcissistic… bastard!"

As she yells at my face, I see her anger subside almost immediately; she begins to shudder and her eyes well up.

"I still love him, you know…" she says in a soft voice.

Although a contrast to her previous outburst, I can still detect a firm note of resentment as she continues; "I just don't understand…how after so long, after all that we have been through together, he can be so oblivious to the feelings of those around him…the one who loves him…he says he loves me…but he just doesn't understand me, so how can he love me…and…I just don't know why he is doing this to us…to himself…" her voice trails off as her gaze once again shifts to the shadowy figure sitting alone in the moonlight.

I feel uncomfortable standing out on this balcony listening to Sally pour her heart out over her beloved Sonic. She knows my feelings about their previous relationship, but I can't help but feel that she is crying out for some reassurance, and, at the risk of compromising myself, I attempt to give her the comfort she desires.

"Look, Sally…I'm certain Sonic still loves you, I mean, look at how shattered he was when you broke it off with him. And you say that he doesn't understand, but I think he does. He may not wear his emotions on his sleeve like others, but underneath that tough exterior of his, I think he understands.

"You have to remember, Sally, that he wasn't brought up to be a leader like you or I even, it was because of his natural abilities that he was forced to become a leader, he was dragged up and expected to be the saviour so often that now he feels that it is all he is good for. And with all the changes he has been through lately, with his family and friends, doesn't he have the right to show his emotions for once?"

My eyes meet hers as I cease, and as the last of my words lingering on the air fade and disappear into the night, silence once again falls between us. Tears streak her face as she contemplates my thoughts; I reach out and place my hand on her shoulder.

"Sally…you should talk to him…he obviously needs someone to talk to…and not just for his sake…I think you all need some piece of mind…"

"I can't Knuckles…I…I need some time to think…could you…I mean, you are so level headed and you seem to understand what he is going though…couldn't you…?" she replies, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"I don't know Sal…you know what it's like when we are together…we're not the best of mates you may have noticed…"

Once again a feeling of awkwardness returns to the dully lit balcony, there isn't much point me talking to him, he'll just get his hackles up and we'll end up arguing again, why do you think I haven't spoken to him already? But I can feel Sally's pleading eyes bearing down on me, and I reluctantly give in.

"Ok Sally…I'll give it a try…"

I heave my body over the cold wrought iron railing of the balcony and glide gently to the ground. Taking a deep breath, I walk silently towards the dark figure sitting at the edge of the gardens…

* * *

Sonic

I just had to get out of there I couldn't stand it anymore.

How can everyone be so happy, so complacent, so totally okay with life and all that has occurred. They have no idea. No idea what is happening. No idea what its like. And I hate them for it.

The stone step on which I sit is the first of many leading into the darkness. Normally, these steps lead into the newly planted royal gardens, but tonight, enveloped by the cold, lonely darkness, I do not know where they lead. I sit silently and alone, close my eyes and allow my mind to run. I can't stop it, I haven't been able to for weeks, and I am too tired to fight it anymore. Images of death, voices screaming, cries for help, terror. Fear. The tumultuous reeling of my mind sickens me. I want to scream. I want to cry. But my body is numb and no matter how hard I try, the tears won't come.

This is stupid.

I open my eyes and immediately find myself sitting alone again, on the step that leads to darkness. Behind me, I can hear the distant sounds of laughter, happy chattering, music and clattering tableware. I glance back; the dinner at the castle is still in full swing. Looking up at the balcony, I see two figures silhouetted against the warm glowing light. I think they are watching me.

Turning once again to the darkness, I reach for the bottle sitting at my side. I twist open the lid and take a long, deep, swill. As the liquor travels down my throat, I feel its warmth, and it consoles my restless body. Placing the bottle down, I take a cigarette from the packet lying on the step. I light it with a match, place it to my lips, and breathe deeply. Flicking the spent match to one side, I take up the bottle in my free hand once again. I know I shouldn't be doing this, but it's the only way I can ease the pain that burns inside. I guess being fast has its uses after all…no one saw me smuggle either of my companions into or out of the castle. Ironic.

I allow my thoughts to smother me again, the bottle moves to my lips by itself. I have no control.

_I was five when my parents were taken from me. Five. How could anyone understand how that feels? I look up into my Uncle's eyes. My Father had been missing for a couple of days, Mum had said he was helping the King, but I knew something was wrong. I had seen my Mother crying when she thought no one would see her. I had seen the strain on my Uncle's face. I knew something was wrong. I could see the tears welling in my Uncle's eyes as I looked at him, and it scared me. As he reached his hand toward me, I recoiled; I didn't want him to touch me, I didn't want to know his sadness. _

"_N-no" I whimpered. I could feel the tears splashing down my cheeks. _

"_Sonic…I am so sorry…"_

_I don't want to hear this. Why won't he leave me alone?_

"_Your parents…"_

_No! Get away from me. Please!_

"…_casualties of the war…"_

_I'm not listening…I'm not listening…_

"…_dead…"_

It was like being hit by a massive wave. A thunderous rush, forcing itself down upon my body. I remember feeling numb, sobbing uncontrollably in my Uncle's arms. It was a lifetime ago, yet the memories are so vivid, it's like it was yesterday.

_I was nine. I looked into Rosie's eyes, and saw the same sadness that had I had seen in my Uncle's eyes four years before. No…please…not again…_

"_Sonic…"_

_I feel my body shaking uncontrollably. Not again…_

"…_I am so sorry…"_

_I feel as though I will collapse…I feel so heavy…_

"…_your Uncle has been captured…"_

_No…_

"…_robotisized…"_

I shake my head. I can't go through it again. Not again.

Opening my eyes, I am suddenly aware of someone standing behind me. Turning my head slightly I look up. Without saying a word, Knuckles walks to the step and sits beside me. Taking another drag on my cigarette, I silently offer the half-empty bottle to him. He shakes his head slowly; I shrug, and take another swig.

"Why are you doing this?" he asks me.

Great…just what I need…an obnoxious echidna interfering with things he shouldn't. Staring blankly into the night, I ignore his question, and raise the bottle to my mouth once again.

"You know this is killing everyone, watching you tear yourself apart like this."

"What would you know…?" I reply coldly.

"I have spoken to Sally…she is worried about you…"

I contemplate my answer…

"She doesn't care…she has no idea…"

"I saw the worry in your parent's faces tonight" he replies.

Why is he doing this? Why can't they all just leave me alone?

"Sonic…we all know what you've been through…we all understand…"

"How can you! How on Mobius could any one understand?" I retaliate angrily. I can feel the anger bubbling inside of me. I tighten my grip on the bottle. My stare does not move away from the darkness.

"Look…if you'd just talk to someone…Sally, or me…someone…I know you can beat this…"

I turn to face him. I glare deep into his eyes and can no longer suppress my rage.

"Who the hell do you think you are? I am sick of everyone trying to get inside my head, trying to psychoanalyze me, trying to pretend that everything is alright!"

My voice is raised and trembling. I've lost control.

"Tell the princess to leave me alone. Tell them all to stay the fuck away from me. Stay the fuck out of my life!"

He looks at me…in his eyes I can see confusion, pity, sorrow, fear. I have never seen him look like that before. But my mind is so angry; I can't say anything. Under his gaze, I feel my mouth open, and I try to speak. I want to apologize, to cry for help, but silence is all I hear. He stands slowly, turns, and walks away.

Flicking away the spent cigarette, I reach for another and light it up. What is wrong with me? I take another drink. What is happening to me? And another. I've lost control.

No one understands. Sally doesn't. That's why she dumped me. I feel the alcohol slip down my throat, but I am too far-gone and the drink no longer eases the pain. She doesn't care. Otherwise she would understand why I have to continue to fight. But it is too late to fight. I am so tired. I have lost. All I ever wanted was peace.

I close my eyes again, and, discarding the empty bottle I wrap my arms around my knees and bury my head. I rock slowly back and forth. Images of my past flood my mind again. Please make it stop. Over and over again. The death of my parents. My Uncle's capture. Sally's death. Torture and Pain. Fear. Please Stop this… Lies. Deceit. Finding my parents. Sally's embrace. Losing a year. Anger. Screaming. No more…please… Fear. Pain. Lies. Death. I have lost. I have lost. All I want is peace.

My body moves on its own. I have never felt so cold and alone. I feel my heart racing and my breathing quicken. My mind is reeling. I cannot stop it. I cannot stop. I stumble down the stairs and into the darkness. My vision is blurred, as are the sounds around me. But my body moves on its own. I want to scream. I clutch my head as I walk alone in the dark, the pain unbearable now. I have to stop this. I fumble the keys as I reach the door to the house. I stagger along the passage to the bathroom; it has never felt so long. The painful screams in my mind are deafening, I cannot hear the sound of my breathing anymore. Please help me. I open the cabinet and push aside the bottles as I search for the answer. I have to end this. All I ever wanted was peace. Please…

_To be continued..._


	3. Shattered

_Author's Notes: Firstly - Happy New Year! I hope this update finds you well, and enjoying the (left- over) spoils of the festive season! I know I am..._

_Once again, please note that this story deals with the themes of depression and attempted suicide, thus it may be upsetting for some readers (same goes for the lack of editing). Please take this into account as you proceed, as the last thing I want is to cause anyone any undue distress. _

_Thank you to all who took the time to review or PM - it's much appreciated :)  
_

* * *

**Chapter 2**

**Shattered**

Bernie

"Jules, I can't watch him do this to himself anymore. Five times this week he has retuned home drunk. And I have lost count of how many times it has been this month. We have to find him Jules, I have called everywhere, spoken to all of his friends; no one seems to know where he is. We have to find him."

I feel my husband's cold, metal arm curl around my shoulders. I love him dearly, but at times, I wish he wouldn't touch me.

"Bernie, we will find him. Charles, and all of his friends are out looking for him, they will find him and bring him home."

I know that he is trying to console me, but I can tell he is as worried about our son as I am. I sigh deeply and allow him to hold me; I close my eyes and try not to assume the worst.

A knock at the door interrupts our silent embrace; Jules releases me and moves into the passage to answer it. As the door opens, I hear Jules groan, and Antoine apologizing.

"I am sorry sir, I found him alone at the edge of the Great Forest."

Taking a deep breath, I walk out of the kitchen and into the passage. Antoine is standing at the door, one arm holding Sonic's arm around his strong shoulders and the other around his waist. The strong smell of alcohol, cigarette smoke and vomit reaches my nose as I watch Jules take hold of my son in much the same way as Antoine had held him. Sonic staggers and begins to fall as Jules takes hold of him; Antoine had obviously been supporting most of his weight. I watch in sorrow as Jules slowly guides him along the passage and into the bathroom.

Beckoning Antoine to follow me, I shut the door and move back into the kitchen. As I speak, I gaze at Sonic's untouched plate sitting at the dinner table, and the tears begin to flow freely.

" Thank-you Antoine, for finding him."

"I am sorry that this has happened again…" he replies, his strong French accent hiding some of the sorrow in his voice.

"Antoine, I just don't know what to do anymore. I want to help him, but how can I when he won't talk to me. He won't tell me what is wrong."

I grimace as I hear Sonic throwing slurred, barely comprehendible insults at his father. And then further vomiting. I look at Antoine, and see that he too is grimacing at the events occurring down the passage.

"It was my turn to look after him last night…there is only so much you can handle. I am so glad that I have Jules and Charles here with me…I couldn't cope if I were alone. Sonic must feel so alone…"

Antoine places his hand on my shoulder. "No one is alone. You and Jules have myself and my fellow Freedom Fighters, as does Sonic. If there is anything any one of you needs, anything at all, all you need to do is ask".

I smile and wipe away some of the tears. "Thank-you Antoine. And thank the others for me as well, for all that they have done for us of late." He nods, turns and leaves.

Shutting the door behind Antoine, I turn to see Jules carrying the unconscious body of Sonic into his bedroom. I turn back the covers of his bed as Jules lays him down gently, and I kiss him tenderly on the head as I tuck the blankets in around him. I stand silently watching him for what seems like hours, until I decide that he is asleep and out of harms way. Of late, unconsciousness brought about by alcoholic stupor seemed to be the only way in which my son could find any sleep.

I open my eyes slowly to find that it is morning. I have had little sleep and feel exhausted. I couldn't stop thinking about Sonic. Why is he doing this to himself? Why haven't I been there for him? What can I do? Rolling onto my side, I see that Jules is already up and, knowing that I can no longer prolong the inevitable, climb slowly out of bed.

Supposedly to celebrate our many victories, and the returning strength of the Kingdom, a gala dinner has been organized for the evening at the castle of Acorn. Despite the Royal Family's claims, however, I rather suspect that it is more of an excuse to take a break from life, rather than to celebrate success. After all, we are still at war. I am dreading the night's activities; after all we had been through with Sonic lately, I just don't feel up to socializing. Jules feels much the same way, but Charles, in his usual sickly-sweet manner, convinced him that a night out would be good for all of us. Bloody Charles…

Quietly, I open the door leading into Sonic's bedroom and peer in. The room is dark, and lit only by the small, golden rays of light seeping in though the gap between the curtains. My gaze falls upon the shadowy figure balled up on the bed in the far corner of the room and, to my relief, see that he is still sleeping. Still breathing. I stand there in silence, leaning against the doorframe, and stir only when I feel my husband's arm wrap around my waist.

"Morning hon'" he greets me, and plants a cold, metallic kiss on my cheek. I rest my head upon his shoulder, not taking my eyes away from my son.

"What are we gonna do, Jules?" I ask him, fighting back tears.

He takes me by the shoulders and turns me to face him. Staring deep into my eyes, he tells me firmly "We are going to be here for him. We will be here when he wants to talk, or when he wants company, or…" he stops and glances into Sonic's bedroom "when he loses his way…" his voice trails off and I can tell that he is pained by the events of last night.

"Look…" he begins, "you go to the diner, and I'll hang about here today and keep an eye on him, okay?"

Although I am grateful for the offer, I can't help but feel the need to stay. After all…had I been there for him for all those years, things might be different now…

* * *

Sitting at the kitchen table I attempt to work through the accounts for the diner. Constantly distracted by thoughts of my son, I find however, that I am having more success in chewing the end of the pencil to a fine pulp than calculating order costs and wages. I hear Sonic stir, and make his way to the bathroom to once again vomit. I look at the clock: 3:30pm. Looking at the papers in front of me, my mind begins to drift again. I wish he would just talk to someone. I can't imagine what his life has been like, without us, his parents, to turn to. And whilst his incredible skills have been a blessing to us all, they must place such an immense burden on him. Seen as a hero and a source of hope by so many, he puts on an impenetrable bravado, hiding away all of his feelings from all but himself. Deeply concerned for his well-being, and perhaps rather selfishly, I decide that I will not let Sonic out of my sight until the dinner this evening…I know that he isn't looking forward to it after his fight with Sally, but I still hope that it will cheer him up…

* * *

I stare blankly at my empty plate, and then across at the barely touched plate of my son. He has hardly eaten anything for weeks now, and I can see it every time I look at him. Bunnie, who pulled a chair up beside mine, interrupts my thoughts.

"How are you?"

"Tired…and stressed…I'm so worried about Sonic…I don't know what to do…" as I reply, I notice Knuckles standing at the back of the room, staring at me. He sees that I am looking at him, and quickly disappears onto the balcony.

I turn my gaze back to Bunnie as she continues, "He looks terrible, I tried to speak to him, but he wasn't very talkative…he just told me to get lost, although not that politely."

"No, he hasn't been talking to anyone lately" I reply flatly, "I just wish I knew what was going on."

"Sonic is strong tho' sugar, he has his demons, but he will beat them."

"I hope you're right, Bunnie",

We sit in silence, I can see that Bunnie wants to say something, but she can't put it into words. I guess I'm not the best company at the moment. She probably doesn't want to upset me further. I move my gaze away from her, and look around the vast dining hall. The silver candelabras glinting under the light cast by their candles, and the richly coloured banners hanging from the walls give the room great warmth. Where's Sonic? He isn't here.

"Bunnie…have you seen Sonic?"

"No…come to think of it, I haven't seen the sugar'hog for a while…"

"Jules…Jules…we have to go…" Grabbing my husband's cold, metallic hand, I pull him away from his conversation with Rotor. "Sonic's gone…Jules, we have to go."

His hand in mine, we run from the castle, through the royal gardens, and homeward. Although we had been through this many times over the last month or so, for some reason, tonight I hold a fear greater than any other night. As we draw closer to our home, Jules brakes away from me.

"The others are looking for him around the Castle, hon, he will be alright."

I keep running, even as Jules calls after me, I keep running. As I reach the front porch, I find that the front door is already open. I enter, and run down the passage to the bathroom. I don't know why I feel so drawn to this room. All I know is that something is wrong. Slowly, I open the door, and the sight that greets me fills me with terror. I stand dazed in the doorway; it is if time has suddenly stopped. As my mind begins to comprehend the image my eyes are showing me, I feel my stomach lurch as if time were again passing, faster than ever before.

"JULES! JULES!"

I see my Son looking up at me, sitting on the floor, his back against the bath and his eyes filled with terror. He raises his hands up towards me, and I can see blood streaming from his wrists, a razor blade in his blood soaked hands. So much blood…I feel my heartbeat quicken as I reach for the towel hanging from the rack by the shower. Tearing it into strips, I begin to bind his arms. I look at his blood-smeared face, tears streaming in rivulets from his eyes.

"I'm sorry…I didn't mean to…I …I…"he murmurs as I kneel beside him and cradle him in my arms.

I whisper words of comfort to him as I look up to see my husband standing in the doorway. The look on his metallic face sickens me; a look I have never seen on his face before, such horror, fear and worry. Suddenly, Sonic's whimpering stops, and I feel his body fall limp in my arms.

* * *

I sit in the waiting room, my arms resting on my lap; I stare at the floor. The skin on my face feels tight from the tears that have dried there, and my eyes burn. Sitting next to me is Charles, I feel his arm around my shoulders in an effort to comfort me. It is strange, we have never really seen eye-to-eye, and at times I have found him irritating, but now, however, I am glad he is here. Jules is pacing up and down the room, he remains silent but the look on his face and his restless hands say a thousand words. Sitting opposite me, Bunnie is sobbing quietly into Antoine's embrace, while Sally, Rotor and Knuckles sit together, silently staring at the wall. Tails is nowhere to be seen, he took off as soon as he heard the news. It is a lot to comprehend…

I look at the clock above the waiting-room door; I have been here before, after Jules being shot in the field of battle. It feels as though an eternity has passed, however, I find that it has only been an hour and a half. The waiting is agony…I wish they would tell us something. I slip back into my thoughts…reliving the night's events over and over like my life is stuck on replay. Why did he do this? Why didn't I see this coming? Why didn't I do anything?

I stir as I hear the door creak open. I look up to see the doctor moving slowly into the bleak, sterile room. I stand, and move silently towards him. Jules too has walked over to him, and, as we approach, the doctor signals us to move into the small room next door.

"N-no…we are all family here…please…whatever you have to say…let them hear it too" I manage to say, shaking my head.

I see the doctor move his lips as his eyes meet my gaze. I am unsure if he is speaking, all I can hear is silence, like some sort of hellish nightmare. I look to Jules and see his eyes fixed on the doctor. He nods his head, but like a puppet, his expression does not change. I open my mouth to call out, to scream, to stop this dream, but suddenly, the doctor's words rush over me like boiling water, and I wince in pain. I am not dreaming. This is real.

"…his condition is critical…"

The words hit me like crushing weight. I feel my pulse quicken.

"…severed arteries…stopped the bleeding…"

A feeling of panic begins to rise in my body. My chest tightens and I find it difficult to breathe.

"…massive blood loss…"

No…

"…lack of oxygen…"

My body shakes uncontrollably. The room spins around me.

"…coma…possible brain damage…"

I can't breathe. I can't breathe.

"…done all we can…can only wait…"

As the final words escape his lips, I feel my knees buckle under the weight of my body. I can't catch my breath as the panic takes hold.

"No…"

As I fall, I turn to Jules and hold out my hands to grab him. But he is so far away and I cannot reach him. I hear him call my name as he turns to me and catches me before I hit the ground; his outline is blurred as the room spins behind him…

* * *

I sit by his bedside, I feel numb. My skin is cold, but my body is unable to react, and so I sit here motionless, my clammy hands clasped tightly in my lap. Jules stands silently in the corner, staring at the floor. He has barley looked at our son since we entered the room. I look at Sonic, I want to hold him, console him, but as I watch his chest rise and fall slowly in shallow breaths, I cannot bring myself to touch him. I look at his heavily bandaged wrists. Tubes run down his throat and into his arms, delivering life-giving oxygen and blood, and various other fluids, wires seem to be everywhere; I cannot bear to look at him anymore and turn my face away.

I look back at my husband; he does not react. I can see out into the hallway through the viewing window. Sally and Charles, and several of Sonic's friends stand patiently outside, as only two visitors are allowed at a time. Each of them stares blankly at various points around the hospital, Charles examines his hands and Antoine stands with his back towards the window. Tails, it seems, has not returned.

I turn my attention to my hands; my gloves are blood-soaked, as is my jacket. However, the colour has lost its vibrancy, and now looks a murky brown. I close my eyes, and the emptiness in my mind is suddenly flooded with images of the night's events, and the events of the past months. This is my fault. The signs were there, why didn't I heed them? Why didn't I do anything? This is my fault.

Opening my eyes, I look at my son. I reach out my hand and touch his forehead. Moving my fingers down his face, I stroke his cheek tenderly.

"I am so sorry…I have failed you…this is my fault" I whisper to him, desperate for some sort of sign that he can hear me. Gently, I take his hand and clasp it in mine.

"This is my fault. I was never there for you. I promise, I am not going to leave you now…"

_To be continued..._


	4. Empty

_Author's Notes: Last chapter, and I do apologize for taking so long to update – truth be told I totally forgot. As usual, please note that this story deals with the themes of depression and attempted suicide, thus it may be upsetting for some readers. Please take this into account as you proceed, as the last thing I want is to cause anyone any undue distress. Again, it hasn't been edited._

* * *

**Chapter 3**

**Empty**

Jules

Two weeks have passed since the night of the dinner, and there has been no change in Sonic's condition. It took a couple of days for the full impact of what had happened to sink in, never before have I felt such fear or anguish. Realizing that my own son attempted to take his life is a resolution no father should have to endure. Everyday I sit by his side, or pace up and down his room, begging for some sort of reaction, a hand movement or his eyes opening, but nothing has come. It is agony seeing my son like this, but what makes the pain worse is not knowing. Is this temporary? Will he ever wake? And if he does, will he be the same?

I look at my wife. She has hardly left Sonic's side since he was brought here, and she has barely eaten a thing. I have not been able to make her see sense; if she continues like this…she can't keep doing this to herself.

"Bernie…come on…Sally and Charles are waiting outside, let them have some time with Sonic…come and have something to eat…"

"No Jules…I can't leave him" she retorts bitterly "I wasn't there for him when he needed me most, I haven't been there for most of his life…I can't leave him now!"

Tears begin to well in her eyes. She purses her lips and turns away from me.

"Bernie…they will alert us if there is any change…please, you need to eat something, stretch your legs, get some fresh air."

I see her turn back towards me, her beautiful face twisted in anger and pain. Although barley louder than a whisper, her voice is clear; as sharp as a knife, "No, Jules, I am staying here! My son needs me, can't you see that!"

Her outburst seems to shock the both of us, such hate in her voice; she has never spoken to me in that way before and I can tell by her sudden change in expression that she didn't mean to sound so resentful.

"I…I'm so sorry Jules…"

Begrudgingly, she lets go of Sonic's hand and slowly stands, and without saying a word allows me to guide her out of the room. Charles places his hand on my shoulder as I pass by him.

"Brother, we will let you know…"

"I know Charles…thanks…"

"Oh, and Jules…Tails is here…"

* * *

I lead my wife along the bleak, white corridors, and to the hospital cafeteria. I buy her a coffee and a sandwich, and scanning the room for a free table, I notice Tails sitting alone at a table outside under the verandah. He hadn't been anywhere near the hospital since he heard the news, nor had he even enquired about Sonic's condition. When anyone had attempted to talk to him, he quickly retreated. It must be difficult to understand…Sonic is more than a friend to Tails; he is his 'brother.' Him just being here is a big step.

We move over to his table and sit down; he does not stir. In his hands he holds a cup of coffee, it looks cold and barely touched. His brow is furrowed as he stares deeply into the cup's contents, as if he were trying to read the future through it. I open my mouth to speak to him, but as I do he jerks his head up and shifts his gaze to me. I feel his penetrating stare burning away at me; tears streak his face. He looks terrified, confused.

"Why! Why did he do this?" he yells. His shoulders heave as he sobs uncontrollably. "Why…?"

I look at him. How can I reply when I don't have the answers myself? I am his father and I don't know the answer. Why? I tell him the truth.

"Tails…I don't know. I am as desperate for the answer as you. What I do know, is that Sonic is going to need all the support we can give for him to get through this. He needs to know that we are here for him, and that we love him. He needs to know that you are here."

I leave Bernie sitting at the table; Bunnie and Antoine have arrived and sit silently with her. I wish I had the right words to ease the pain and guilt that she feels. I guide Tails along the empty corridors, and into the bustling intensive care unit.

"Here we are…"

He pauses, and I hear him take a deep breath. Slowly, he turns and looks through the viewing window. He lets out a small whimper and turns away. Sally and Charles look up at us. Both are sitting at Sonic's side.

"C'mon…" I place my hand on Tails shoulder and guide him through the door as Charles holds it open.

Sally leans forward and places a gentle kiss on Sonic's cheek, before letting go of his hand and leaving the room with Charles.

"I…I can't do this…" Tails whispers as we reach the bedside, and he turns away.

"Tails…he needs to know that you are here. He needs your support. I know this is hard. I know that it hurts to look at him. But you must. He needs you…"

He takes a deep breath. "I don't know what to do. What do I say?" He looks up at me.

"Take his hand. Just tell him that you are here."

I watch Tails gingerly take Sonic's hand in his own.

"Hi Sonic…it's me…Tails…"

I turn and leave the room…

* * *

I sit alone in Sonic's bedroom; I had returned home to grab a jacket for Bernie and instead found myself sitting on the end of Sonic's bed, head in hands, reliving the past two weeks over and over in my mind. I am so confused by it all, and my confusion angers me. Why don't I, his father, know all the answers? Why didn't he talk to me? I just can't comprehend what he was thinking and that angers me further! What kind of father doesn't know his own son? What kind of father am I if my only child feels he can't turn to me for support and comfort? I am so confused…

I gaze around the room; it hasn't been touched since that terrible night. The curtains are drawn, the darkness creating an eerie sense of calm. Items of bedding are strewn around the room, the result of an enraged attempt to convince Bernie and I that Sonic was "NOT going to attend the festivities at the castle", and that "no amount of pleading was going to change his mind". It was only after a nasty exchange of words between Sonic and Tails that he changed his mind, conceding that "if going to this fucked-up party was the only way to get people to leave him alone, he would go to get everyone to shut the fuck up". I know that my son can be hotheaded at times, but these outbursts are totally out of character. No one has been excused from his fury; anyone whom had attempted to speak to him lately was viciously attacked verbally.

Surveying the mess, I notice a book sticking out from behind the bed-head. Curiously, I reach out and take it in my metallic hands. I turn the worn, brown leather-bound book over and over in my hands. I have never seen it before and, opening the front cover, suddenly realize that this is my Son's diary. A pang of guilt interrupts my thoughts momentarily as I read the first few words on the page, however my anguished desire to understand the events of the past few months soon dissolve my concerns and I continue to read…

"_Unkle Chuck gve me this tday he siad it woz a diry and that wen I get sad I shud rite it in here and it wil mak me feell beta. He siad mummy and daddy woz dead bcoz of the war but I don blve him. He is ling"_

I look at the messy writing scrawled across the first few pages, an immense wave of sadness wells up inside of me. If my metallic prison would allow me, I think I would have tears in my eyes. Sonic would have been five when he wrote this…five…such a long time ago. I continue to flick through the pages and find it increasingly difficult to read, each entry demonstrating my Son's hope of his parent's return flickering and slowly dying away…

"_Mum and Dad ar gon they hvnt com home and unkle Chuck is alwys sad. I dont thnk he was ling nemor. I miss mum and dad bcoz I luv them. They not cumming bak"_

Messily taped to the bottom of this page is a photo; taken at Sonic's fifth birthday party it shows Sonic sitting in front of the chocolate birthday cake Bernie had made him looking up at me who, standing behind him, was pushing his party hat over his face. Bernie, standing next to me, was sticking out her tongue, making 'rabbit ears' above Sonic's head. This would be the last photograph taken of the three of us before Robotnik's coup. I examine it closely; I haven't seen it in so long… The corners of the photo are quite ragged and grayed, the picture in some places faded and warped, the obvious signs of tear streaks. I wish this body would let me cry…

As I read, I see my Son grow and mature; his writing and spelling improving dramatically, his entries becoming more detailed and emotive. As he grew older, his entries turned increasingly to mission reports, but not of the sort that he would give to his friends or commanding officers. These were true reflections of the days' events, his recollections; his feelings. I can see that he enjoys the thrill of the battle, but, as I continue to read, I begin to see another side to my son. I see the fear that he refuses to show to anyone but himself. I see the loneliness he felt when he thought Bernie and I were gone forever, and he was alone…

Huddled in amongst these 'mission reports', however, were an assortment of entries dedicated to the love of his life, Sally. I feel slightly embarrassed as I read sickly sweet poems proclaiming his undying love for the princess, entries telling of the torment he felt when he was thought she was dead, and the utter joy that her friendship brings to him.

It also strikes me as a surprise to see the number of sketches spread throughout the diaries' pages, I didn't know my son was so skilled in drawing. Accompanying numerous photographs, these drawings depict people and places; his friends, in particular Sally, and many of the situations he has faced throughout his lifetime.

However, as I continue to read, I can't help but notice a change in the overall mood of his entries. Despite revealing his true fears, sadness and pain throughout the pages of this book, the general overtone was positive. Entries emoting sorrow or anger were quickly followed by those of love and laughter, detailing experiences with friends and loved ones. But as I edge ever closer to those entries detailing the events of the last few months, the mood emoted by his sketches and writings becomes increasingly depressed and angry. A feeling of total hopelessness emanates from the pages…

"_I can't understand why Sally is doing this to me. She knows that I love her; I sometimes think that I love her too much. So why is she doing this to me? Why doesn't she love me? I can't stand the pain. I feel as though my heart has been ripped out…I can't stand it."_

I turn the page…

"_Everything has changed so much. I feel so out of place, I feel like I don't belong. Without realizing it, I have lost a year of my life and I can't get it back. I feel like such an outsider, like I am no longer needed. I have tried to slot back into my former life, but it is gone. It went when they thought I was dead. Sometimes I wish I was dead…"_

And another…

"_I am so tired of fighting these stupid wars, I have been willing to give my life to stop the fighting, but it doesn't matter what I do, they just keep fighting and fighting. I feel like I don't have the energy anymore. But I am expected to be the hero; I am expected to be the saving grace, to put an end to the warfare forever. And I don't want my family and friends to suffer anymore. I don't have a choice I have to fight. But I don't think I have the energy anymore. I don't think I can be the hero they want me to be…"_

With each page turn Sonic's mood grows ever darker, his drawings becoming more and more surreal. As I continue to read I stumble across an entry that makes my stomach, or at least, my metallic equivalent, turn. Throughout the diary, Sonic had made reference to nightmares; nightmares that had interrupted his sleep since childhood, however he had never actually described them. I stare at the page…I want to be sick…

Adorning the vast majority of the page is a lead pencil drawing. Heavily shaded, it depicts three ghost-like figures draped in what seems to be a fine white cloth. Through this cloth, however, their gaunt faces are visible, their mouths ugly and contorted, their eyes nothing more than hollow black sockets. The three figures are touching; they appear to be pushing one another in an effort to draw ever closer to the foreground. Outstretched, their hands are grossly misshapen, their fingers long and gnarled. But it is the words at the bottom of the page which have the biggest impact on me…I feel so sick…

"_I can't stop the nightmares anymore. It doesn't matter what I do, they just keep coming back, more vivid every time. I can hear the screams of people dying. I can see their lifeless bodies before me. But I just stand there; there is nothing I can do. I am too afraid to sleep incase the nightmares return. But even consciousness doesn't stop them anymore. I can't escape them. I can't escape the pain I feel when I realize that Sally doesn't love me. I can't escape the exhaustion of fighting…I am so angry. Nobody understands what I am going through, yet they all pretend to know what it's like. What the hell would they know? I sometimes wish that I had died, just like everyone thought I had. I sometimes wonder what it would be like to die. I imagine myself dying; drowning, bleeding, suffocating. I like to imagine what it must be like…to die…"_

I turn the page, terrified of what I might find. In black ink, the next page has been completely coloured; it is obvious by the tears in the page that it was done with great force and anger. I flick through the remainder of the pages. They remain empty. Putting the book aside, I place my head in my hands. I feel so sick. So confused. I wish my body would let me cry…

* * *

Three days have passed since Tails first came to the hospital. There has still been no change in Sonic's condition, and at times I think there won't be one. I feel as though I am on an uncontrollable roller coaster ride, one moment I am on an incredible high, convinced that at any given moment my son will awaken and all will be fine, and then the next I feel as though all hope is lost. It is agony! I lean against the wall, watching my wife caress Sonic's face lovingly. Tails is sitting next to her; he demanded that the hospital allow more than two visitors in to see Sonic at one time. He, like Bernie, has hardly left his side since his first visit. Sally stands opposite me. Once again, several of Sonic's friends remain at the hospital, however their visits have become less and less frequent.

I walk over to Bernie and place my arms around her shoulders. I stand silently, watching my son lie lifelessly in his bed. Bernie clasps her hands around his. She whispers something to him, but I do not hear what she says. I watch as his fingers curl around hers. We hold our collective breaths as, slowly, Sonic opens his eyes and looks up at each of us. His eyes fill with fear as he tries to speak; the tube running down his throat foils his attempt. Tears streaming uncontrollably down her face, Bernie smiles and speaks to him.

"It's okay, sweetheart…we are all here for you…you're going to be alright…"

I call out to the doctor as Charles pushes his way into the room. I feel as though I am going to burst. My hands shake as I watch the doctor remove the tube from Sonic's throat and check his vitals. He looks pale and weak. Feebly, he reaches a hand out to me. As I take it in mine, he looks at all of us. As he speaks, his voice is no more than a rasping whisper.

"I…where…where am I…I don't remember…what happened…"

I look at Bernie; her face seems to drain of its colour as her eyes begin to overflow with tears again.

"Sweetheart…I…don't you remember? You…you…" She stops short, unable to bring herself to tell him what he had done. She looks up at me, her face portraying the utter confusion in her mind.

"Sonic…" Doctor Quack interrupts in a firm, matter-of-fact kind of way, "You are in Mobotropolis General Hospital. You attempted to take your life. You have been in a coma for three weeks and are very lucky to have survived."

I feel awful, I had wanted to tell him, break it to him gently as opposed to the harsh statement of facts thrust upon him by the doctor. I look over at my Son, his reaction making me feel sick again. I watch as slowly, he closes his eyes tightly. He seems to sink into the pillows behind him; he looks so feeble and small.

"No…" he rasps, "no your lying…I didn't…I…I don't remember…"

He seems so confused…I don't know what to do. Still holding his trembling hand, I turn it so that his forearm faces upwards.

"Look…" I say quietly, motioning to his wrist. I watch him sit forward, his gaze moving slowly along the lumpy, red, ten-centimeter scar, and then to his other wrist, and the twin scar.

"I…I don't remember…I…I am so sorry…I…"

Falling back onto the pillows, he closes his eyes and I fear that he has lost consciousness again. But suddenly his lips move and he whispers, "I think I am going to be sick…"

_Fin._


End file.
